Genesis
by Mandy15
Summary: In 1996, Miss Parker leaves Corporate to become head of Security at the Centre. Burnt out and bitter, her first assignment is against poachers from a rival company, who want the Centre's prime investment, the Pretender named Jarod...
1. Part 1

Title: Genesis  
Author: Mandy  
E-mail: kitty_amazon@yahoo.com  
Rating: PG-13  
Category: S  
Spoilers: Pilot  
Key words: Pre-Pretender, UST.  
Author's Notes: Some aspects of this story allude to events that occur   
throughout the rest of the series and the movie. However, if you haven't seen   
the movie, it won't be spoiled for you. More notes at the end, they're easier   
to ignore.   
Summary: Why does Miss Parker hate Jarod so much? Three years before Jarod   
escapes, Miss Parker leaves her duties as a Cleaner in Corporate to become head   
of Security at the Centre. Burnt out and bitter, her first assignment is   
against poachers from a rival company, who want the Centre's prime investment;   
the Pretender named Jarod...  
Disclaimer: Not mine blah blah blah no infringement intended, no profit gained.  
  
  
Genesis  
  
  
September 1993  
  
Miss Parker had forgotten how cold the Centre could be, despite the hiss   
of the heater vents. In the six years she had been away nothing had really   
changed. Oh sure, a team of decorators went through every couple of years and   
swapped sofas, but the Centre's principle design was classic, and hadn't changed   
since she was a child. Returning felt oddly like coming home.   
  
"Angel!" came the booming voice as the door to her new office was pushed open.   
Miss Parker's face lit up with a smile.  
  
"Daddy! They said you were in Paris until the end of the month," she cried.   
The big man stepped inside, and Parker felt a surge of pride. Her father was   
still a vibrant man, his salt and pepper hair combed neatly, his moustache   
trimmed, a fine double-breasted suit only emphasizing the deep barrel of his   
chest. Parker stepped around the boxes on the floor to give him a hug and a   
kiss on the cheek.  
  
"Couldn't miss my Angel's return to the Centre now, could I?" he harrumphed. He   
gripped Miss Parker by the shoulders, holding her away so he could look her up   
and down. "You look beautiful."  
  
Miss Parker smiled tremulously. She knew she looked like shit. The long   
hours in Corporate had left her pale, hollow-eyed and dangerously thin. Several   
close encounters while protecting various Centre agencies across the country had   
left her with some nasty scars and the shakes. Her doctor had told her a career   
change was necessary before she got herself killed.   
  
When the position of head of Security had opened up at the Centre, Parker had   
jumped at the chance. It wasn't that she particularly wanted the job, or even   
that the Centre itself held any real appeal for her. But a step up on the   
ladder was a step up, wherever that happened to be, and she simply couldn't   
resist the opportunity to be close to her father.  
  
"Perhaps, Daddy, we could have dinner tonight, to celebrate?" Miss Parker asked.   
Her father smiled, his hands dropped and he stepped back.  
  
"I'm afraid I can't, sweetheart. I fly to Geneva tonight, business as usual I'm   
afraid," Mr Parker said. Miss Parker's face fell. Mr Parker gave her a gentle   
clap on the shoulder, "Head up, sweetheart, you're a Parker. We'll have dinner   
when I get back. In the meantime, I've left a file for you in your desk drawer;   
your first assignment as head of security. One of our prize investments is in   
danger, and needs your protection. I want you to give it your full attention,   
spare no resource, no expense. Make me proud, Angel."  
  
Miss Parker lit a cigarette as her father left, rummaging through her   
boxes until she found a crystal glass and a bottle of Smirnoff. She sat at her   
desk, pouring herself a healthy shot and tapping the ash off her cigarette into   
a silver ashtray, the only thing she had unpacked so far. It was only nine-  
thirty, but she felt she needed the drink already.  
  
Parker hadn't been expecting an assignment so soon. In fact, she wasn't   
really sure what she had been expecting. A nice desk job with good dental   
cover, watching security footage and organizing sweepers to do whatever it was   
that they did. She took a sip of the vodka, grimacing as it burned her throat,   
and slid open the top drawer of the desk. Inside lay a thick manila folder, the   
only item in an otherwise barren desk.   
  
A glass of vodka and half a pack of cigarettes later, Miss Parker looked   
up from the file. She ground out her smoke, watching disinterestedly as her   
hand shook in the air. She dropped it to the table, and closed the file. It   
turned out that the last head of Security was out of action due to injuries   
sustained in the line of duty, namely on this same assignment. The man was not   
expected to live.   
  
A new company was emerging in the Eurasian spread, one that was becoming   
more and more of a threat to the Centre. Known only as Specifics, it was a   
company that was pushing the boundaries in both biologically and technologically   
created intelligence. Miss Parker had heard of them before, and knew they were   
into everything from nano tech to genetics; nothing was sacred from their   
outlandish experiments and research. Parker had even heard a rumor in the mill   
that they were working on the possibilities of cloning, but the idea alone   
seemed ludicrous to her.  
  
The Centre's main problem with Specifics was the burgeoning company's   
attempts - often successful - to infiltrate the Centre. The previous head of   
Security had been injured when he busted a Centre employee attempting to   
'relieve' the Centre of one of their Pretenders. The Pretender had been   
retained, unharmed, however there had been a small uprising resulting in the   
death of a sweeper.  
  
Parker was beginning to see her father's reasons for being so eager to   
bring her back to the Centre to fulfill her new position. As his daughter, not   
to mention next in line for his job, he could be assured of absolutely loyalty.   
Miss Parker smiled bitterly to herself; her father didn't need to dangle pretty   
promises like the Chairmanship for her devotion.  
  
Miss Parker opened the file again, withdrawing the information on the   
Pretender who had very nearly been a kidnap victim. There was a glossy six by   
eight photograph amongst the sheaf of papers, and she laid it on the desk next   
to the relevant information. The man in the photograph was good looking, in a   
boyish sort of way, dark, close cropped hair, a strong chin and clear blue eyes.   
He neither smiled nor looked at the camera, but his expression was open and   
trusting.  
  
His file said his name was Edward, known as Eddie to his handlers, and he   
was a Pretender with good capabilities. Miss Parker understood that; it meant   
he was good, but certainly not the best. The Pretender was wanted, but he   
wasn't irreplaceable. She would have to debrief him, and all of his staff. In   
fact, she realized, she'd have to screen damn near every employee in the Centre,   
searching for any of Specifics' little weasels that might have kept their heads   
down.  
  
Parker lit another cigarette and lowered her head to bang it on the desk.   
  
****  
  
Eddie, it turned out, was just as good looking as his photo, perhaps even   
more so. He sat at his table fidgeting nervously, watching every move Miss   
Parker made. For her own amusement she let the silence drag on, studying her   
file on him and writing notes in the margin occasionally. Eddie plucked at the   
neck of his Centre-issued tunic for a few moments, and then finally broke.  
  
"Did I do something wrong?" he asked nervously. Miss Parker placed her file on   
the desk, and carefully lit a cigarette.  
  
"No, Eddie, you did everything right. This interview is just to help me find   
the people who want to hurt you," Parker said soothingly. It was true; when the   
fight had broken out Eddie, apparently not knowing what else to do, had snuck   
away while everyone else was distracted and returned to his room.  
  
"Oh. Good," Eddie replied, his relief evident. Miss Parker recrossed her legs,   
Eddie's eyes tracked the movement and he swallowed visibly.  
  
"Your Mentor is Suzanne?" Parker asked, naming one of the doctors. Eddie   
nodded.  
  
"Yes, Suzanne takes me for my simulation work. We have been doing a lot of   
exercises," Eddie explained.   
  
Miss Parker mentally reviewed what she knew of Suzanne and Eddie's work   
from the file. Suzanne was fairly new to the Centre, and had been assigned to   
Eddie just twelve months ago. Eddie didn't do sims on a regular basis, mostly   
he did legwork, helping preparations for the big simulations, doing research.   
Suzanne was there to assist and encourage Eddie, to prevent him from becoming   
distracted. So far there had been no complaints on either Eddie's or Suzanne's   
behalf, but Parker understood that a Pretender wouldn't exactly know what to   
look for.  
  
"Do you like working with Suzanne?" Miss Parker asked.   
  
"Of course," Eddie said, frowning. Of course, thought Miss Parker. Not liking   
your Mentor is frowned upon for a Pretender.  
  
"What was your relationship to the man who tried to take you, Eddie?" Parker   
asked.  
  
"Mark, he supervised me sometimes. He was new, he didn't know all the rules.   
He kept asking me how and why I did things. I didn't like it," he said, his   
brow wrinkling in distaste.  
  
"What specifically did he ask you about, Eddie? It's very important that I   
know," Miss Parker said. She was alarmed to realise she was talking to this   
fully grown man as if he were a child.  
  
"About my simulations, about how I did them. What it felt like," Eddie   
answered. He frowned again, "It seemed very important to him, so I answered.   
Was that wrong?"  
  
"You didn't know any better," Parker reassured, "When did you first realise   
something was wrong?"  
  
"Oh, that is easy," Eddie said with a small smile, "When he held a gun to my   
back."  
  
What a beautiful smile, Miss Parker thought, surprised by its intensity.   
Automatically she smiled back, and Eddie blushed. Parker picked up her file   
again, glancing through it. "This man, Mark, did he say anything to you?"  
  
"He told me not to make any noise. He told me to act like everything was   
normal, and if I tried to attract any attention he'd shoot me," Eddie said. It   
wasn't anything Miss Parker didn't already know; the whole situation had been   
caught on camera.  
  
"And then what happened?" Miss Parker asked patiently.   
  
"He took me out of the sim lab, to the elevator," Eddie flushed, and looked down   
at his hands, "I'm not normally allowed near the elevator, but there were no   
sweepers on the way, nobody who could stop me."  
  
He's embarrassed, Miss Parker realised. Embarrassed that he was out of   
his section. It wasn't his fault, the sweepers in question had been found   
unconscious in a storage room on that floor, drugged. Miss Parker looked down   
at her file, reading the events as Eddie described them.   
  
"We got into the elevator, and at Sub Level two it stopped, very suddenly. I   
could hear an alarm, and people shouting outside. The doors opened and Mark   
pushed me out first. He looked very scared. There were a lot of sweepers   
waiting, and Mr Johnson," Eddie said, naming Miss Parker's predecessor, "Mark   
fired once, so I dropped to the ground. I think that's when the sweeper was   
killed. I crawled back inside the elevator, and I could hear a lot of shooting,   
but the doors closed before I could see anything. I didn't know what to do, so   
I went back to my room."  
  
Miss Parker knew what happened once Eddie had gotten away. Mark had   
gotten off a few more shots, one of them getting Mr Johnson in the throat,   
before being shot down. Some of Mark's accomplices had been found before news   
of the shooting spread; a techie with a fist full of chloroform, a couple of   
guards in the car park with a getaway vehicle ready, another at the gate waiting   
to let them out.   
  
It didn't make any sense, Miss Parker thought. Surely they would have   
realised they just couldn't walk out the front door? Security had realised   
something was off as soon as they'd stepped into the elevator; Mark didn't have   
clearance to move any of the Pretenders around.  
  
"You did the right thing. If anyone starts asking you strange questions again,   
I want you to ask one of the sweepers to tell me. I'll let them all know that   
they're to pass on any message you want, alright?"  
  
"Okay. Who do I ask them to tell?" Eddie asked. Parker smiled faintly.   
  
"Just tell them head of security," she said, "Thank you Eddie. I'll walk you   
back to your area now."   
  
Miss Parker stood, tucking her file under her arm. Eddie gave her another shy   
smile as they left the room, a sweeper falling into step behind them. Eddie   
faltered at the elevator, waiting for Miss Parker herself to hit the button.   
It's doors opened immediately, and Parker suppressed a shudder at the sight of   
the bullet hole still decorating it's interior. Her mother's suicide was a long   
time ago, she had to learn to move on.  
  
On Corridor 15 Eddie became surer of himself, almost leading the way, although   
he was careful not to leave Parker behind. Miss Parker had a brief moment of   
wondering who it was that taught him manners, and then dismissed the thought.   
Asking questions like that could only get her into trouble.   
  
"Thank you again for your time, Eddie, I hope I didn't interrupt your schedule   
too much," Miss Parker said once they were at his door. He smiled again.  
  
"Oh no, no really, I've just got some gym work and then research, you didn't   
interrupt anything..." Eddie seemed to realise he was rambling and trailed off,   
blushing again. Miss Parker allowed herself a small smile in return and   
squeezed his arm gently.  
  
"Goodbye, Eddie," Parker said, and walked away. She knew, without needing to   
look over her shoulder, that Eddie would be watching her butt as she went.  
  
****  
  
"One more," Steve cajoled, and Jarod sucked in a breath and forced it out   
through a grimace, pushing the weights over his head once more and feeling the   
strain through his arms.   
  
With a sigh of relief Jarod dropped the bar into place, sitting up as   
Steve threw him a water bottle. Jarod had worked up quite a sweat in the last   
hour, and was well and truly ready to finish up. He sucked at the water bottle,   
towelling the cooling sweat from his face at the same time.  
  
"Good work today, Jarod. Shower off and I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" Steve   
said.  
  
"Thank you," Jarod said, and watched the instructor leave. He stood up and   
moved to an empty space on the floor, running through a few warm-down stretches.  
  
"Hello Jarod," someone behind him said, and Jarod turned around to see Eddie   
entering the gym. He looked excited; his colour high and eyes shining.  
  
"Is something wrong, Eddie?" Jarod asked. Eddie shook his head.  
  
"No, I mean - no. Nothing's wrong," Eddie said. He bit his lip, and Jarod   
smiled.  
  
"Are you... ill?" Jarod asked with dread. Nobody ever got sick in the Centre,   
except for sometimes the staff, and they were always kept far away from the   
residents.  
  
"No, of course not!" Eddie cried. He blushed, "I just had a debriefing session,   
that's all."  
  
Jarod sat down on one of the benches, and Eddie sat beside him. It wasn't   
yet time for Eddie's instructor to arrive, which they had a few minutes to talk,   
and Jarod was glad. He was intrigued by Eddie's strange behaviour.  
  
"Was it about Mark?" Jarod asked. It was still a tender subject amongst the   
residents. Never before had their lives been endangered in such a way.  
  
"Yes. It's okay, really, she was very nice," Eddie said. His words raised a   
flag in Jarod's mind, and he turned to Eddie in surprise.  
  
"She?"  
  
"Yes, she," Eddie said, and flushed. He spoke hesitantly, "She... she was very   
pretty. Her clothes were nice, she looked... very nice."  
  
Jarod remembered the little girl he had known as a child. "Does 'she'   
have a name?"  
  
"No. She told me, if anything like what happened with Mark starts happening   
again, to ask the sweepers to pass a message to head of Security," Eddie said.   
He twined his fingers together, and looked shyly at Jarod, "I haven't seen her   
here before. I would have remembered. Her skirt was very short and she smoked   
cigarettes like Dr Raines... I would have remembered her."  
  
The Miss Parker he knew would never have smoked, Jarod thought. He had   
done the research into the relation between cigarettes and lung cancer himself;   
the Miss Parker he had known would never have taken up such a dangerous habit.   
Nor would she be working at the Centre, she was going to be a ballerina, or at   
least, that was what she had always said.  
  
Eddie's instructor arrived and Jarod headed for the showers, still   
pondering his friend's words as he soaped the sweat from his body. Most women   
in the Centre were middle aged or kept well away from the residents, and   
certainly none dressed in a way that could be construed as provocative. The new   
head of Security must have been brought in from elsewhere.  
  
****  
  
Miss Parker had intended to start at ground zero and work her way out   
through the other residents in the Centre, but her plans were cut short by the   
arrival of Mr Raines in her office.  
  
"Mr Raines. Sir," Miss Parker said, trying not to be too obvious about her   
shock at his visit.  
  
"Miss Parker. It has... been a long... time..." the old man wheezed. Miss   
Parker politely held out her hand, almost shuddering when his cold, dead hand   
took hers. When did this man get so... old?  
  
"Is there something I can do for you?" Parker asked politely. She jumped when   
Raines thumped a DSA reader on the table, raising the lid and inserting a disk.   
  
The image flickered a few times, and then the footage began to roll. It   
was of Eddie, Miss Parker realised, barely an hour after their interview. He   
appeared to be in the resident's gym, speaking to another man. Another,   
incredibly good looking man, and Parker almost leaned in for a closer look,   
before the camera's focus shifted to Eddie.  
  
"She... she was very pretty. Her clothes were nice, she looked... very nice,"   
Eddie was saying. Miss Parker had to repress a smile.  
  
"Does 'she' have a name?" the other man asked, his voice deep and harmonic.   
Parker wished she could see him.  
  
"No. She told me, if anything like what happened with Mark starts happening   
again, to ask the sweepers to pass a message to head of Security. I haven't   
seen her here before. I would have remembered. Her skirt was very short and   
she smoked cigarettes like Dr Raines... I would have remembered her," Eddie said   
on the screen. Raines hit the stop button, giving Parker a formidable glare.  
  
"Is there something wrong, sir?" Miss Parker asked.  
  
"Your... attentions are... distracting... the residents. Eddie... was unable...   
to focus... after your... interview..." Raines gasped. Parker bowed her head,   
fighting fury.  
  
"I must do my job, sir, if the situation is to be resolved. This includes   
interviewing the residents!" Miss Parker argued, though she knew she was   
destined to lose.  
  
"Find other... means."  
  
****  
  
  
"Have you been aware of any unwarranted attention from the staff?"  
  
Jarod shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes flicking to the mirror   
on one wall. He wasn't sure which he found more intriguing, the idea that   
someone was watching him from the other side of the glass, or the fact that he   
had a rare chance to study his own reflection.  
  
"No. Mark was never assigned to me, and nobody has asked me any questions,"   
Jarod replied. The man interviewing him was reading questions from a card, and   
Jarod was becoming more and more convinced that it was for the new Security   
head's benefit. She's on the other side of the glass, Jarod thought, and stared   
at the mirror once more.  
  
"Do you like working with Sydney?" the interviewer asked.  
  
"Of course. I've worked with Sydney all my life," Jarod said, feeling   
bewildered. Surely they didn't think Sydney could be involved in any way?   
  
"He'll be back in another eighteen days."  
  
Jarod had, over a long period of time, come to dread the three weeks   
annual leave Sydney took, no matter how much Jarod pleaded with him not to go.   
Sydney had left three days ago, and already the time seemed unbearable. The   
Centre seemed huge and empty without Sydney to help Jarod to work.  
  
The interviewer touched his ear, and for the first time Jarod realised he   
had some sort of transmitter. The man shrugged slightly, then smiled at Jarod.   
  
"Sydney is not under suspicion."  
  
Jarod looked back at the mirror, eager for any sign of movement behind the   
reflection. He tapped the files in his hand. "I have work to do..."  
  
The interviewer touched his ear again, then stood, frowning. "Thank you   
for your time, Jarod. Someone will be along soon to escort you back to your   
area. In the meantime, I suggest you keep working."  
  
When the man had gone, Jarod laid his file on the table and stood   
gingerly. The work was merely some calculations that needed to be done, nothing   
terribly important. He approached the mirror cautiously, waiting for someone to   
come and tell him off. He threw a quick glance at the camera in the top corner   
of the room, squared his shoulders and looked.  
  
It had been a long, long time since Sydney had held a mirror in front of   
Jarod as a boy, showing him a face he had long forgotten. Since then, the   
Centre no longer enforced the ban on Jarod knowing his own face quite so   
studiously, but neither was it encouraged. Jarod could count on one hand the   
amount of times he had viewed his own reflection in the past few years; any   
opportunity was to be taken advantage of.  
  
****  
  
Miss Parker was glad she had left Jarod til last. Of all the residents'   
interviews she had been dreading this one the most, dreading seeing her   
childhood friend once more. They hadn't seen each other since Miss Parker's   
father had sent her to boarding school in Rome.  
  
Imagine her surprise when she realised that Jarod, the gangly teen she   
remembered, had grown into a man. The same, handsome man with the melodic   
voice, that she had admired so briefly in Raines' DSA. The same, handsome man   
who was now checking himself out in the two-way mirror.   
  
Miss Parker understood that he probably didn't get a chance to see himself   
very often. To be left alone in a room with a mirror like that must have been   
too tempting a situation for the Pretender. The truth of the matter was that   
Parker had wanted some time to see him alone, without the idiot interviewer   
blocking her vision.  
  
Parker lit a cigarette, inching closer to the glass as Jarod stepped in   
front of it. She smiled to herself, realising that with her high heels, they   
were almost eye to eye, their faces only a matter of inches apart. It seemed   
Jarod was looking right at her, right through her, tilting his head this way and   
that. He smoothed his palm across the stubble on his jaw, and then rolled his   
shoulders experimentally. He ran his fingers through his short hair, and Miss   
Parker mimicked the motion, sweeping her long hair off of her shoulders.   
  
Jarod flattened a hand on his chest, over his heart, and Parker did the   
same. His eyes seemed to be black fire, burning through the mirror with the   
intensity of his gaze. Jarod reached up with both hands, his fingers tracing a   
path across his brow, his temples, around the tips of his ears and down the line   
of his jaw. Miss Parker watched the way his shirt tightened over his broad   
chest, feeling her mouth go dry.  
  
Abruptly, Jarod stepped back from the mirror, returning to his seat at the   
table. He opened his file and took out a pen, seemingly immersed in the   
scrawled calculations there within moments. Parker felt physically bereft,   
letting out her breath in a deep sigh. She was having dangerous thoughts,   
thoughts that could get her killed. Her job was to protect Jarod, not stalk   
him.  
  
The afternoon's interviews had led Miss Parker to believe that Jarod was,   
in fact the target of Specifics interest. It seemed that almost every resident   
with communicable skills had been questioned in some form or another by Mark and   
his accomplices, and many of the residents had admitted that they felt there was   
an unusual amount of attention being paid to them within the last two months.   
All the residents; except Jarod.   
  
Jarod's apparent immunity to such attention led Miss Parker to believe   
that the rest was simply a distraction, designed to lead her down the garden   
path. Further analyses of the failed kidnapping of Eddie caused Miss Parker to   
come to the conclusion that it was a mere diversion. Something was going on   
elsewhere in the Centre when the shooting broke out, and she was convinced Jarod   
was centre star.  
  
Which meant, of course, in order to protect him she would have to get   
closer. Parker sighed, butting out her cigarette. Jarod was working steadily   
at his table, tapping his left hand on his leg rhythmically as he scratched out   
line after line of sums on his paper. His head tipped forward, his face in   
shadow; he appeared to be an ominous study of the scholar. Miss Parker almost   
groaned aloud at that thought, leaning forward to lightly bang her head against   
the glass in frustration.  
  
Miss Parker realised her mistake as soon as she heard a chair scraping   
back. Jarod had risen from his seat, and was approaching the mirror warily.   
His eyes flicked back and forth, as if he strained for some glimpse of what lay   
behind his reflection.  
  
"Is somebody there?" he called anxiously. Parker closed her eyes briefly.  
  
Jarod came to stand just in front of her, and then cupped his hands around   
his face and attempted to peer through the glass. Miss Parker almost wanted to   
laugh. Jarod leaned back, understanding the futility of his actions. He   
faltered once more, then tentatively raised his hand and placed his palm flat   
against the glass.  
  
"I know you are there," he murmured.  
  
Hating herself for what she was about to do, Miss Parker touched her own   
to the glass, to Jarod. She held the pose for a few precious moments, then   
turned around and walked away.  
  
****  
  
It was hours before Jarod was allowed to return to his room, and instantly   
he knew something was different. Just inside the door he stopped, turning back   
to the sweeper who had escorted him.  
  
"They searched the room?" he asked. The sweeper waited a beat before nodding.  
  
"All part of the investigation," he said gruffly. Jarod smiled and thanked him,   
closing the door. He had learnt long ago it paid to be polite to the staff   
around him, working to his advantage later.  
  
Everything appeared to be in its place, Jarod noted, just slightly shifted   
around. He was halfway to his desk when he stopped, raising his head and   
inhaling deeply. There was an unusual scent in the air, and it took him a few   
moments to identify it. Lingering traces of cigarette smoke and perfume.  
  
The thought immediately agitated Jarod, and he fidgeted with his file for   
a few moments before placing it on his desk. *She* had been here, he knew it,   
the same way she had been behind the mirror. It had to have been her directing   
the interviewer, she who later made the noise. Briefly he fantasized that she   
had done it on purpose, to let him know she was there. And then she had come to   
his room, touched his things, stood where he stood now...  
  
Jarod turned slowly, surveying the contents of his room. Was there   
anything missing? Had she taken anything, a souvenir, perhaps? Frantically he   
rummaged through his possessions, but every paper, ever pen and every disk   
appeared to be in place. He was being silly. She hadn't taken anything. It   
was a normal search, like any other.  
  
****  
  
It was dark. The only sounds were her breath and the staccato sound of   
distant gunfire. The job had gone sickeningly wrong; the Cleaning team sent in   
before the situation was fully resolved. They hadn't counted on the two men in   
the office of the warehouse, desperately clutching rifles to their chest. A mob   
raid for Centre weaponry gone bad, and these were just kids, just green kids who   
had hidden when the sweepers arrived, watched all their buddies get gunned down.   
  
So she and her team had been sent in to clean up, dispose of the bodies and   
destroy all the evidence, when suddenly her men had started getting picked off,   
one by one. One of the kids had busted out, down the fire escape out the side   
of the building. The sweepers outside would take care of him, which just left   
her and the kid, high up in the office.  
  
She managed to take him by surprise, busting open the door and kicking the   
rifle out of his arms. They fought, like animals, dirty and without honour.   
The kid was green but he was huge; still she thought she could take him. She   
had martial arts under her belt, and decades' worth of watching her back. She   
almost had him, in fact, until the kid pulled a knife, six inches and jagged.   
He grinned, jamming it into her gut, watching her gasp in shock and arch into   
him...  
  
Parker awoke in a sweat, clutching her belly. Her alarm clock read 2:15   
am. She dragged herself out of bed, peeling the sticky sheets from her body and   
staggering into the bathroom. She turned the shower on full, pulling her   
nightgown over her body and stepping under its cold spray. Under the stark   
light her body looked gaunt, all hollows and sharp angles. Miss Parker touched   
her hand to her abdomen, to the twelve month-old scar that started just under   
her breastplate, between the twin shells of her ribs.   
  
I should probably be dead, thought Miss Parker. Would have been dead if   
one of the sweepers hadn't come back on a hunch, shooting the kid between the   
eyes. She traced the faint pink scar in wonderment, grimacing as her hand   
shook. After the warehouse incident in New York it had all been downhill,   
Parker had found herself drinking heavily early in the day, unable to hold her   
gun her hands were shaking so badly. The PTBs had tried to ship her off for   
therapy, but too soon she had been called back into the field, cleaning up   
accidents and evidence all over the country. Her work had gotten sloppy, and   
there were a few near misses with the feds that she wasn't proud of.  
  
Getting out was probably the best thing she could have done, Parker   
decided. Washing her hair and rinsing off quickly, she stepped out of the   
shower and emerged into her bedroom, wrapping herself in a robe. She stepped   
around the boxes she hadn't unpacked yet, heading downstairs to fix a drink.   
Feeling strengthened by the glass of Smirnoff, Parker pulled her files out of   
her briefcase, lighting a lone lamp by the sofa and settling in.  
  
The search of Jarod's room had revealed two bugs, neatly positioned under   
his desk and by his bed. Miss Parker had locked them in a box, and they sat   
waiting in her office until she could find a techie trustworthy enough to   
analyse them for her, though she doubted it would turn up anything useful.   
Tomorrow she intended to continue her interviews, starting with the handlers and   
anyone who might have had contact with the residents. She expected her time   
with the sweepers to be brief; most of them had been around for years and all   
were heavily screened before being hired.  
  
Flicking her wet hair from her shoulders, Miss Parker reached for her file   
on Jarod, retrieving his photograph from amongst her notes. The picture was   
similar to Eddie's, except Jarod looked directly into the lens, his head held   
high. Parker curled a lock of her hair around her finger, tracing the outline   
of Jarod's face with her other hand. Such a proud man, she thought.  
  
Miss Parker had been reviewing the Pretender Project, and was beginning to   
understand how much of it's success hinged on Jarod and the work he did.   
Pretenders like Eddie were mainly around to back up the work Jarod did, to take   
on the smaller tasks and do the preparations for Jarod's simulations.   
  
'One of our prize investments is in danger, and needs your protection. I want   
you to give it your full attention, spare no resource, no expense,' her father   
had said, and she now understood he meant Jarod. What she didn't know was to   
what lengths her father expected her to go.  
  
****  
  
Miss Parker had found her techie; or rather, he had found her. Parker was   
striding in the direction of her office when he rounded the corner, nose buried   
in some files. She saw disaster about to strike within moments, his shoelaces   
dangerously untied. Miss Parker managed to sidestep when he tripped, staring   
down at him in amusement when he sprawled over the floor, papers flying   
everywhere. The man rolled over and groaned, flushing deep red when he saw Miss   
Parker standing over him.  
  
"Hello," he said. He tried to sit up, but his hand slipped on a sheet of paper   
and he thumped back to the floor.  
  
"I'd offer to give you a hand, but you'd most likely take me down with you,"   
Parker said dryly. The man nodded, delicately climbing to his feet.  
  
"I, uh... sorry!" The man said, and smiled apologetically. Miss Parker didn't   
smile back, merely bending to retrieve some of his papers, looking over them   
curiously.  
  
"You work in the tech room. You're a technician?" she asked. The man swallowed   
visibly.  
  
"Uh, yeah. I'm Broots, I just started..." Broots said. He held out his hand to   
shake, which Parker ignored. Instead she smiled sweetly.  
  
"Come with me, Mr Broots."  
  
****  
  
With Sydney's absence, Jarod found his workload was much lighter than   
usual. He had tried sitting in the sim lab and running through exercises, but   
his concentration kept being broken by questions. It was no secret that there   
was some new security risk at the Centre, and that the residents were the main   
targets. What had been kept highly confidential was who was doing it - and why.   
Jarod wished he could help, he didn't want to see his friends, like Eddie, get   
hurt in any way.  
  
Jarod went back to his room, tucking his arms across his chest and   
frowning in concentration as he scanned its contents. Whoever this woman was,   
the new head of Security, she certainly seemed capable. He had heard rumors   
that most of the sweepers had been interviewed just this morning, and that the   
handlers were next in line.  
  
He was startled out of his reverie when he heard the buzzer on the door   
sound, locking electronically. It wasn't the first time he had been locked in   
his room for no apparent reason, but something inside made him move to stand by   
the door, pressing his ear to the colored plexi-glass window and listening.  
  
After a few moments of silence he heard a rhythmic tapping, footsteps   
coming closer. But not just any footsteps, Jarod realized, high heels. He drew   
in a sharp breath, pressing his ear to the door so hard it almost hurt. He   
could almost believe he smelt faint traces of cigarette smoke. The footsteps   
stopped just outside his door. She must be just on the other side, Jarod   
thought. Who was she? Where did she come from? Why was her interest focusing   
on him so much?  
  
The footsteps retreated again, and Jarod waited impatiently for the buzzer   
to sound again, then threw open the door. The corridor was empty, of course.   
Corridor 15 was usually empty, the residents certainly didn't like to stand   
around it. No matter how long or how often the heating vents were on it always   
felt cold. Jarod had even overheard one of the sweepers call it 'creepy',   
whatever that meant.  
  
Jarod sighed in disappointment; he had been hopping for a glance of the   
mystery woman. Instead he headed up the corridor to Eddie's room, knocking   
briefly before opening the door. Eddie smiled when he saw who it was.  
  
"Jarod," he said warmly, "Shouldn't you be working?"  
  
"I was, I'm finished. Eddie, I wanted to ask you about the woman who debriefed   
you a few days ago," Jarod said, sitting opposite Eddie at his desk. The   
younger man ducked his head, studying his hands.  
  
"I... I did a sketch of her," Eddie mumble, and Jarod perked up. Eddie   
continued, "They confiscated it. They said it was unproductive. I'm not   
supposed to talk about her anymore."  
  
Jarod sighed in frustration, but gave Eddie a friendly tap on the shoulder   
as he stood. "Thank you anyway. I'll see you later Eddie."  
  
****  
  
"So, pretty much anyone could have made this. It's the lowest form of bug, so   
to speak, made with parts you could pick up at any electronics store. It's   
range wouldn't be that good, I'd say only about thirty feet. It's set at a   
certain frequency, you'd probably pick it up on a radio or a Walkman," Broots   
explained. He looked hesitantly at Miss Parker, who was purposely crowding his   
personal space by leaning over his shoulder.  
  
"Huh," she said, and poked the small black box, lying dissected on her desk.  
  
"Does this, uh, have anything to do with the recent security breaches?" Broots   
asked. Miss Parker raised an eyebrow at him.  
  
"I *am* head of Security... what does that suggest to you?" she whispered darkly   
into his ear. Broots shivered.  
  
Miss Parker straightened up, smiling to herself. Finding the immensely   
geeky Mr Broots to hold under her thumb had been one of her better moves. He   
had cleared all his security checks, and during their interview, Parker had come   
to the conclusion that Broots was perfect for her to manipulate. Naturally   
timid, he was obviously in awe of Parker's aura of sex and power. He'd barely   
been able to keep his eyes off her chest the whole time they'd been in the same   
room together.  
  
Parker headed over to the bar she'd set up in one corner of her office,   
pouring herself a drink and lighting a cigarette. Broots coughed self-  
consciously, turning back to the bugs and fiddling with them. Miss Parker   
ignored him. Whoever had been using the bugs had to have access to Corridor 15,   
otherwise planting them there in the first place would have been useless. It   
wasn't any of the sweepers, and she had her staff interviewing the handlers at   
that very moment...   
  
Corridor 15 was approximately sixty feet long. Miss Parker didn't know   
what had compelled her down there earlier that day. One of the sweepers had   
informed her that Jarod was safe and sound in his room, and she had activated   
the electronic locking system for all the rooms while she was still by the   
elevator. Standing outside Jarod's door, she had wondered what he was doing,   
had even gone so far as to place her hand on the keypad.  
  
What would she have done? Punched in the code to gain access, gone inside   
and had a friendly chat with a man she hadn't spoken to in almost twenty years?   
Mentally Parker berated herself for such a foolish moment of weakness, downing   
the rest of her drink and striding back over to her desk. Broots jumped in   
surprise, and she blew cigarette smoke in his face. She hit the buzzer on her   
desk and Joe, one of her sweepers, entered. She motioned for him to wait.  
  
"Listen up, Mr Broots. Right now, you're one of the few people around here I   
can trust. You and Joe are going to get me all the footage of Room 4 on   
Corridor 15, both in and around the room, for the last month. You're going to   
bring it back here and the three of us are going to try and figure out who   
planted that bug. Got it?" Miss Parker snapped. Broots nodded dumbly,   
scurrying out of the room with Joe in tow. Despite his attitude, or lack   
thereof, the balding man actually seemed to have more than two brain cells to   
rub together.   
  
Parker decided against another drink, sweeping the scattered pieces of the   
bug into her desk drawer. Things were coming to a head; she could feel it in   
her gut. She was closing in on the 'who' and 'how' of the assignment. She had   
a sneaking suspicion that they'd find the bugs in Jarod's room were planted on   
the same day as Eddie's failed kidnapping, proving that it was, in fact, a   
distraction. And when she found the bastards who were behind all of this she'd   
haul their asses down to Renewal Wing, and let Mr Raines take care of them.  
  
Hopefully, Parker thought, she'd get to them before any attempt was made   
on Jarod. To bring in those responsible with no bloodshed whatsoever was an   
expectation she hoped to fulfill, but couldn't be sure of. She touched her   
abdomen, feeling the irregularity of the skin underneath her clothes. Closing   
her eyes, she could easily see the mob kid as a red flower blistered between his   
eyes, the surprise on his face. His grip on the knife releasing, he fell   
backwards as Parker fell down, clutching the blade and crying out in pain as she   
pulled it from her body...  
  
Miss Parker lifted her head sharply, effectively breaking the spell that   
had fallen upon her. She trembled all over, and her wet cheeks attested to the   
power of the memory. Parker set her jaw grimly, pulling out some files and   
setting to work. A bloodless encounter was not just an expectation; it was a   
priority.  
  
**** 


	2. Part 2

Jarod was used to silence. In all his long, lonely years at the Centre,   
silence had become somewhat of a friend, a comfort. He was used to the silence   
in Corridor 15, the silence as he worked or the silence in his room at night.   
But this was a new kind of silence. The silence he was used to was silence   
created by white noise, which was a contradiction in terms when he thought about   
it - yet still made sense. White noise creating the illusion of silence, white   
noise made up of lots of little noises that he was so accustomed to hearing, so   
that all these familiar noises faded into the background and became... silence.  
  
A disturbing new silence had fallen, Jarod realised. He raised his head   
from his work, standing slowly. This was a disturbing silence because it was   
the very definition of silence - a complete and utter absence of noise. There   
was no white noise, no vents hissing, no footsteps outside his door, not even   
the mechanical grind of the surveillance camera tracking his movement around the   
room.  
  
Jarod broke out into a cold sweat. He went to the door, cracking it open   
warily. There were no sweepers or other residents in sight. His footsteps   
echoed hollowly on the marble floor, and he made his way to the sim lab. There   
were no sweepers on the way, and none near the sim lab. In fact, Jarod didn't   
encounter one single person on his trip.  
  
****  
  
"There, go back!" Parker barked, and Broots jumped. On the table before them   
lay tape after tape of surveillance footage, ready to be copied to DSA. Broots   
rewound the tape they had been watching.  
  
"The, uh, date and time says it was the same day they tried to take Eddie,"   
Broots stuttered. They all watched as a man dressed in a janitor's uniform   
walked confidently into Jarod's room and placed the bugs in position, under the   
guise of cleaning.  
  
"Who is he?" Parker asked. She felt like a caged animal, just waiting for the   
door to open so she could attack, "And how the hell did he get a uniform? Did   
he kill a janitor?"  
  
Joe coughed discreetly, and Miss Parker glared at him. Joe pointed to the   
man's face. "He *is* a janitor, Miss Parker. He's been here about three   
months."  
  
"Bring up his-"  
  
"Got it!" Broots said. Miss Parker was amazed; the man had known what file she   
wanted before she even said it. She filed it away for future reference. Broots   
could possibly come in handy some other time.  
  
"Andrew Whitmore, thirty-seven," Parker read. She scanned over his file,   
frowning, "Born in Wisconsin, failed high school, used to be a labourer..."  
  
Joe gave a sharp laugh, "Everything in there must be fake. I've talked to   
the guy myself; he's got an English accent.  
  
Parker pulled open the bottom drawer of her desk, taking out her gun and   
it's holster. She hadn't worn it since she left Corporate, but now attached it   
to her pants at her lower back. Miss Parker also secured two more clips to her   
belt. She retrieved a knife in its sheath, tucking it into the ankle of her   
boot and drawing the hem of her pants down over it. Broots watched her   
nervously, while Joe nodded in approval.  
  
"Joe, I want you to go-"  
  
A siren rent the air, cutting Parker off mid-sentence. Broots tapped   
furiously at the keyboard for a moment, and then pointed at the monitor, knowing   
it was useless to attempt to talk. Parker and Joe leaned over, and she thumped   
her fist on the table in frustration. A fire on Sub Level 12. A ruse, Miss   
Parker thought. A ruse designed to somehow get Jarod.  
  
****  
  
When the alarm sounded, Jarod froze. He had been sitting in the sim lab,   
feeling nervous and vulnerable, and the start of the alarm only compounded his   
fears; something was very, very wrong. Hastily he stood up, hurrying out of the   
lab. He didn't know where he was supposed to go, he just knew he couldn't sit   
around and wait for something to happen.  
  
He was halfway back to Corridor 15 when something hit him over the back of   
his head. Jarod tumbled to the floor, his head reeling. He gasped in pain and   
shock, attempting to scramble to his knees. Someone laughed behind him, and he   
felt panic surging in his stomach.   
  
"Get up, Pretender, it's time to go," a voice said behind him, with a familiar   
cockney accent. Andy, he realised, Andy the janitor who had seemed so cheerful,   
so unassuming.   
  
Jarod groaned, and slumped back to the floor. He heard shuffling feet, and Andy   
cursed. A hand grabbed the back of Jarod's tunic, rolling him over. Jarod   
continued to roll up onto his knees, obviously taking Andy by surprise, swinging   
an arm out and punching him in the face. Andy stumbled backwards, and Jarod   
pressed home his advantage, leaping to his feet and ramming the man in the   
stomach with his shoulder. They both fell to the floor, and Jarod rose up,   
preparing to make a run for it when he heard the ominous sound of a safety   
clicking off. He stopped, raising his hands into the air slowly as Andy stood,   
wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth.  
  
"That wasn't smart. Move!" Andy growled.  
  
Jarod considered his options as they headed for the elevator. The lack of   
sweepers and handlers on the entire floor, not to mention the still screaming   
alarm, suggested this had all been planned. For some reason, the situation   
seemed sickeningly familiar to him, although he couldn't understand why.  
  
"They'll find you, you know that, don't you?" Jarod said dangerously as they   
entered the elevator car.  
  
"I'm 'fraid all your handlers are a bit busy right now Jarod. We'll be done   
'ere before you know it!" Andy leered. He poked Jarod in the gut with the   
muzzle of the gun, and then laughed again. Jarod watched the floor numbers   
light up as they ascended. They stopped at Sub Level 1, just one floor below   
ground, and Jarod held his breath.  
  
"How do you expect to get me out of here?" he asked. Andy shook his head.  
  
"Wouldn't you like to know!"  
  
****  
  
Miss Parker could feel her hands shaking, and she took a few deep breaths   
to try and calm her nerves. She had ascertained there was a fire on Sub Level   
12, as well as a storage room full of unconscious sweepers. She had come   
straight down to Corridor 15, but Jarod was gone.  
  
Parker headed in the direction of the sim lab, but stopped halfway to   
study some droplets of blood on the floor. She doubted Specifics would have   
wanted Andy to harm Jarod in any way, which probably meant the Pretender had put   
up a fight. She smiled grimly, hoping Jarod had pounded the SOB.  
  
She headed for the elevator, watching with interest as the floor numbers   
lit one by one, finally stopping at Sub Level 1. Drawing her gun, she hit the   
call button and waited.   
  
****  
  
Jarod stepped out of the elevator, carefully placing his foot out to the   
side and behind him as Andy stepped out, sending the man stumbling forward.   
Jarod gave Andy a heavy thump to the back of the neck and he fell, allowing   
Jarod to snatch the gun from his hands and bolt.  
  
Unfamiliar with the level, he rapidly became confused, standing in the middle of   
where two corridors intersected and panting for breath. He shucked off the   
restraining tunic of his uniform, leaving him in only his undershirt. He saw a   
sign on one door, which read 'Staff Pool', and pushed it open, hoping he would   
find some staff to help him. He realised his mistake almost immediately, there   
was no staff, just a long room with a large body of water in it. Jarod took the   
gun and threw it as hard as he could into the depths of the water.  
  
"Aww, now you're going to have to get that for me, ain't ya?" Andy asked behind   
him.  
  
Jarod couldn't turn around fast enough before Andy gave him a hard push,   
sending him toppling into the water. Jarod gasped in a breath before he hit the   
water, and sunk fast, flailing his limbs in attempt to get to the surface.   
Jarod felt the pressure on his chest and the weight of his clothes and tried not   
to panic, wishing somebody had taught him to swim.  
  
****  
  
Miss Parker saw Andy enter the poolroom and headed after him, pushing open   
the door just in time to see Jarod be pushed into the pool. Andy swung to look   
at her in surprise, and she trained her gun on him and smiled dangerously.  
  
"Now, are you going to fish him out, or should I?" she asked, nodding at Jarod.   
The Pretender's thrashing about was sending him further and further away from   
the edge of the pool.   
  
"I would," Andy said, his gaze lingering on Miss Parker's figure, "But I think   
I'd really enjoy watchin' you bend over, love. Feel free."  
  
Miss Parker gritted her teeth, edging closer to the edge of the pool.   
Jarod emerged from the water, his back to her, gasping for air, and then sank   
once again. She realised it wouldn't be long before he didn't emerge at all.  
  
"Turn around, put your hands on your head and kneel down," Parker said. Andy   
shrugged, gave her a wink, turned and knelt. The splashes from the pool were   
becoming more and more infrequent.  
  
Parker gave Andy a solid thump on the head with the butt of her gun,   
hoping it would be enough to knock him out for a good while. Not wanting to put   
her gun down on the side of the pool in case he regained consciousness and used   
it against her, she threw it into the pool. Parker ripped off her jacket, her   
sense of urgency mounting when she noticed that Jarod had stopped moving   
underwater.  
  
Diving into the pool, she kicked strongly until she reached Jarod. She   
wrapped an arm around his torso, dragging him up with her as she swam to the   
surface. He felt like a dead weight in her arms, his head lolling to one side   
as she tried to keep both their heads above water and reach the edge.  
  
Getting Jarod out of the water proved to be more difficult than Parker had   
expected, and she opted for hauling herself out first and then slowly dragging   
and bumping his body over the edge of the pool. Rolling him onto his back, Miss   
Parker flicked her wet hair out of her face and checked for a pulse. It was   
thready, and the Pretender wasn't breathing.  
  
"Damn you Jarod!" she growled, tipping his head back and pinching his nose. She   
covered his mouth with hers, exhaling her breath into his lungs. She lifted her   
head, looking for a reaction, any reaction. It had been a long time since her   
training, and she couldn't remember if she was doing it right.  
  
Miss Parker repeated the process, checked, and then did it again. On the   
fourth time he moved, coughing and rolling his head to the side. Parker scooted   
so she sat behind him, lifting his shoulders and patting his back as he   
sputtered and coughed up the water he had swallowed.  
  
"Sh, it's okay, everything is going to be fine..." Miss Parker murmured   
soothingly, stroking Jarod's broad back as he attempted to sit up, feeling   
exhaustion rip through her.  
  
"No... it's not," came a deep, male voice.   
  
Parker winced as Jarod was struck across the temple, supporting him as   
best she could as he fell back against her, unconscious.  
  
"Check he's still breathing, wouldn't want him dying on us, would we now?"  
  
"Joe!" Parker spat angrily. She couldn't believe one of her own staff was   
involved. She checked Jarod's vitals, and then lowered him gently to the ground   
beside her as she stood. Joe smiled and shrugged, backing up slowly, his gun   
aimed squarely at her heart.   
  
"The one and only. You didn't really think an imbecile like Andy could have   
orchestrated all this, did you?" Joe asked. Parker glared at him.  
  
"No, I guess only an imbecile of your high calibre could have pulled it off,"   
she muttered. Joe slapped her, painfully hard, and Parker tasted blood in her   
mouth.  
  
"I've been planning this for weeks. You really thought I'd let you ruin it?" he   
asked. Miss Parker realised his accent was slipping; Joe, too, was English.   
  
She was beginning to think it was a conspiracy.  
  
"Why Jarod?" she asked. Joe hit her again, the sound resounding in the big   
room, her head snapping to one side. Parker felt tears well in her eyes from   
the sting.  
  
"Don't ask stupid questions, it doesn't become you!" he snarled. Miss Parker   
thought over his words, looking for an advantage.  
  
"What does become me Joe?" she asked defiantly, raising her eyes to meet his.   
She set her shoulders back, so her chest stuck out, the wet material of her   
blouse sticking to her breasts. Joe's gaze flickered.  
  
"Don't tell me the Ice Queen wants to make a trade?" he asked sardonically. He   
stepped closer, his hold on the gun still steady as he stretched out his free   
hand. One finger trailed from her throat to her bellybutton slowly.  
  
"Would you really go that far to protect Jarod?" Joe asked, "He must mean a lot   
to you. Have a lot of 'one on one' sessions with him, then?"  
  
Joe grabbed her by the hair, dragging her close to him, his gun pressed to   
her temple. Parker panted, trying not to cry out as he viciously tugged on her   
hair, puling her head back. Miss Parker shuddered with disgust as he nuzzled   
her neck, then bit down. She yelled out with pain and fury, aware that blood   
was trickling down the side of her throat.   
  
Joe laughed, throwing her roughly to the ground and crouching beside her.   
Miss Parker half sat up, sliding her hand down her leg slowly so he wouldn't   
notice.  
  
"A pretty little thing like you... but even you aren't worth what Jarod is to   
Specifics. They're going to pay good money for him..." Joe said softly.   
  
Miss Parker smiled at him sweetly, yanking her knife from its sheath and jamming   
it into his leg. Joe howled in pain, and Parker knocked the gun from his hand,   
hearing it skitter across the tile floor. She elbowed Joe in the face,   
crouching over him as he fell backwards. She went to kick him in the ribs, but   
he grabbed her ankle and twisted, causing her to fall to the floor. She groaned   
in pain, rolling swiftly to her belly.  
  
Parker reached for the knife in Joe's leg as he tried to stand, grabbing it in   
both hands and twisting harshly. Joe cried out, staggering forward and falling   
back to the floor with a thump. She pulled the knife from his leg, crawling up   
his body as he stretched out to grab the gun. Joe tried to point it at her, and   
Parker sank the knife into his belly.  
  
"Nobody fucks with the Centre on my watch, understand?" Miss Parker growled.   
She twisted the knife and Joe's hand clenched, the gun firing. Parker cried out   
with pain, the bullet hitting her left shoulder. Joe was shaking beneath her,   
and the gun dropped from his hands.  
  
Joe coughed, his blood flecking onto Parker's face. His eyes were wide   
and he was sweating, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Miss Parker   
ignored the pain in her shoulder and bruised body, her blood flowing freely over   
both of them. She jerked the knife again. Joe twitched slightly and coughed   
again, then finally was still.  
  
Standing up, Miss Parker clutched her hand over her bleeding shoulder.   
She felt faint, and realised she must have lost a lot of blood. She stumbled   
back to where Jarod lay, still out cold. She had done it; he was safe.   
Dropping to her knees beside him, she checked his pulse again.   
  
"If anyone else comes, you're on your own," Miss Parker mumbled to him. She   
desperately hoped there were no more surprises; she didn't think she'd be able   
to handle it. Hell, she knew she couldn't handle it.  
  
Hearing distant shouts, the alarm finally shutting off, Miss Parker closed   
her eyes in relief. Awkwardly she lay down, her head on Jarod's chest, her   
torso covering his, her legs between his; a final effort to protect him.  
  
"This had better be worth it," she mumbled, before darkness claimed her.  
  
****  
  
Signing off on her report, Miss Parker closed the file and pushed it away.   
It was finally over; two days ago Andy had named every other Centre employee who   
had been in on the conspiracy, and told them where to find the access tunnels on   
Sub Level 1 he had intended on taking Jarod out through. Jarod was in   
Infirmary, safe and sound, a concussion and two fractured ribs to show for his   
adventure. Parker had the sneaking suspicion that the two fractures had   
occurred when she was trying to lug his ass out of the pool, but wasn't about to   
tell anyone else that.  
  
Miss Parker herself had needed a blood transfusion, and several stitches   
where the bullet had badly grazed her shoulder, but had been out of Infirmary   
and back in her office before Jarod had even woken up. He had no idea who had   
saved him, and Miss Parker wasn't about to let him in on the secret. She liked   
the anonymity.  
  
Miss Parker had killed a man. She'd had nightmares ever since the...   
incident, she woke up at night screaming, only to realise it was real. What she   
had hoped would be an incident without bloodshed and turned into a waking terror   
for her; she had held a man and killed him slowly. Parker touched the scar on   
her abdomen, remembered the little mob kid smiling while he shoved the knife   
into her, and wondered if she had smiled at Joe when she pushed the knife into   
him.  
  
When he had heard what happened, Sydney had returned. He had   
congratulated her for saving Jarod, and implied that if she needed somebody to   
talk to, he was there. She had turned down his offer, hadn't even looked up   
from her desk, and once he was gone, presumably to see Jarod, she cried into her   
vodka. She had killed a man.  
  
"Angel?"  
  
Miss Parker raised her head, smiling weakly to see her father standing in   
the doorway. She stood from her desk, and her father stepped inside her office,   
looking her over as he approached. She was a sorry sight, her face bruised and   
swollen from where Joe had hit her, a patch over the bite mark on her neck and   
her arm in a sling.   
  
"Oh, Angel. I knew you could do it!" her father said approvingly, and Miss   
Parker wanted to cry. He enfolded her into a warm hug, and she felt her eyes   
sting with tears. She brushed them away before he could see, and smiled up at   
him.  
  
"I am a Parker, daddy," Miss Parker said. Her father nodded.  
  
"The best. If anybody could pull through this, you could. That's what I told   
the other board members; they didn't believe me, but you sure proved them   
wrong!"  
  
Parker felt her warm glow of approval slide away from her. "Daddy? What   
are you talking about?"  
  
"That Johnson man was totally inappropriate, why, he failed in the first phase!   
Shot in the throat, he died yesterday, I believe," her father said. Miss Parker   
stiffened.  
  
"What phase?" she asked slowly, her tone cold. Her father frowned.  
  
"This. The test. We couldn't let just anyone run Security, sweetheart, we had   
to find the best. And the only way to do that was if you proved your ability!   
Which you did, I might add!" Mir Parker said, and beamed. Miss Parker stared at   
him incredulously.  
  
"Daddy! What about Specifics, don't they..." she faltered off as the truth   
dawned on her.  
  
"Surely you don't think we'd let a rival like that spring up, do you? The   
Centre owns Specifics! Oh yes, the whole thing was arranged, and you passed   
with flying colours!" her father boomed. Miss Parker stumbled away, tears   
threatening.  
  
"Daddy, I killed a man for this! Jarod..."  
  
"Well whose idea do you think it was?"  
  
Miss Parker felt like she had been hit in the gut. She sat down slowly,   
coldness invading her body. "This was... Jarod's idea?"  
  
"In all the ways that matter. I'm sorry it got so out of hand, we didn't mean   
for Joe to go as far as he did..." her father said, touching Miss Parker's neck.   
He stroked her hair soothingly, "You forgive me, don't you?"  
  
Parker stared unseeingly at her father. Jarod must have known what was   
going on all along, played it out like some stupid game. She had risked her   
neck, killed a man and almost gotten killed herself, and for what? A test. A   
stupid test, one that had come out of Jarod's own twisted head. For a moment   
she felt a flicker of doubt, wondering why her father had put her through it   
all, then she pushed that thought aside. Her father was all she had left.  
  
Jarod was to blame.  
  
****  
  
Jarod awoke slowly, turning his head and wincing as he drew in a breath.   
He had been dreaming about a mystery woman, the one who had apparently saved   
him. He had vague memories of hearing a feminine voice while he had struggled   
for air in the pool, and of soothing hands on his back before he had been   
knocked unconscious, but that was all.  
  
"I'm glad you're awake," a lilting voice stated, and Jarod opened his eyes.  
  
"Sydney! You're back!" Jarod said, then groaned at the pain in his ribs.   
Sydney smiled patiently.  
  
"I felt that under the circumstances, it would be best. I've rescheduled my   
time away for later this year."  
  
Jarod nodded, "I was almost kidnapped."  
  
"I know." Sydney said enigmatically. Jarod hesitated for a moment.  
  
"Sydney, do you know of the woman who saved me, the new head of Security?" he   
asked. Sydney smiled slightly, and something seemed to flicker in his eyes.  
  
"I don't know anything of the person who helped you, and I certainly haven't   
heard of a new Security head. I believe it was a sweeper who came to your   
rescue."  
  
"I wish I could thank her," Jarod said wistfully. He frowned, "Sydney, something   
about this whole situation seemed so familiar..."  
  
"I'm afraid it was a part of one of your simulations, twisted for somewhat   
nefarious purposes," Sydney explained, looking genuinely regretful, "Somehow it   
got into the wrong hands, and they used it against the Centre. Your very lucky   
they didn't get away with it, I've been told the people who were trying to take   
you were quite brutal. They'd had several bugs planted in your room so they   
knew when you were in there, when they could remove the sweepers without   
arousing your suspicions. We're lucky that nobody was seriously hurt."  
  
"Oh." Jarod said.  
  
"I had better go Jarod, you need your rest. It's back to work as soon as you're   
able," Sydney said with a smile, and Jarod's face fell.  
  
"Goodbye Sydney," he said.  
  
"Goodbye Jarod," Sydney said.  
  
"Sydney?" Jarod called when the older man was almost at the door.   
  
"Yes Jarod?" Sydney asked, turning back.  
  
"Do you know what ever happened to Miss Parker? The girl I knew when I was   
young?" Jarod asked anxiously. Sydney smiled benignly, and was a long time in   
answering.  
  
"No. No, I don't know what happened to Miss Parker."  
  
Two weeks later  
  
"And thus it's my decision to return to Corporate. I can continue my duties as   
head of Security just as well in the New York offices, focusing on the recent   
Mafia interest in our activities. The raid twelve months ago was not their   
first attempt, nor will it be their last; I'd like to get to the root of the   
problem. It is under doctor's recommendations that I am not in the field at   
this present stage," Miss Parker said. She kept her back straight despite the   
resulting pain in her shoulder, and her face perfectly serene. Before her sat   
her father, Mr Raines and the Madam Director.  
  
"Very well Angel, although I must admit, I'll miss having you around here," her   
father said warmly.  
  
"A wise choice, Miss Parker. They could use someone of your integrity in   
Corporate to help them clean up their act," the Madam Director said approvingly.   
Miss Parker smiled stiffly.  
  
"Thank you. I'll be gone as soon as my things are in order."  
  
Back in her office, Miss Parker placed the last of her personal items in a   
box. It was just over a month ago that she had unpacked them, and yet it felt   
like an age. She lit a cigarette and looked around. She hoped she'd never have   
to come back to this hellhole. She didn't ever want anything to do with Jarod   
or the Pretender project again; nothing to remind her of the heinous act she had   
committed on Sub Level 1, the blood on her hands.  
  
"You're leaving then?" Sydney asked from the doorway. Miss Parker snorted   
derisively.  
  
"Of course. Wouldn't you, if you had the chance?" she asked.  
  
"Our situations are somewhat different," Sydney said calmly.  
  
"I forgot. You've got the lab rat to pander to," Parker muttered.  
  
"He's been asking after you, you know."  
  
Parker felt her heart stop, "You didn't tell him...?"  
  
"I kept my promise," Sydney said, "I haven't told him it was you who saved him.   
But he's becoming more and more persistent; he wants to know what happened to   
the sweet little girl he knew so long ago. What should I tell him?"  
  
Miss Parker dropped her silver ashtray on top of her other possessions,   
then sealed up her box. She met Sydney's gaze squarely.  
  
"Tell him I grew up."  
  
September 1996  
  
Returning to Corridor 15 after three years felt eerie to Miss Parker,   
though she did her best not to show it. The plan was simple; find Jarod, bring   
him home. She had missed him in Alaska, but vowed that would be the first and   
last time she did. Parker hoped to have the rat back in Room 4 before the end   
of the month, and then her deal with her father would be fulfilled, she could   
finally leave the Centre forever.  
  
"Imagine my excitement at being recalled from Corporate. Only you could have   
created a mess big enough to get me back in the field," Miss Parker said to   
Sydney, striding confidently towards Room 4.  
  
"I am... thrilled to be working with you as well," Sydney said.   
  
"Not for long," she said quickly, almost reassuring herself, "We've tagged his   
account in Anchorage, he uses an ATM anywhere and he's ours."  
  
"Don't underestimate him! If we're to catch him we need to be patient."  
  
"Look Syd, you might be satisfied in your laboratory probing small minds for   
solutions to big problems," Parker said, waving her hand to emphasise her point,   
  
"But I have career goals that don't include schlepping across country chasing   
after boy wonder."  
  
Career goals, like getting the hell out of Blue Cove, Delaware. As they   
approached Room 4, Sydney smiled faintly.  
  
"You were such a happy little girl. What happened to you?" Sydney asked. Miss   
Parker, feeling a sense of déjà vu, began to punch in the code for Room 4.  
  
"I grew up Sydney. So should you," she said with a brief, grim smile. Crossing   
her arms over her chest, she watched a small child on a tricycle approaching.   
The buzzer on the door sounded, and Sydney pushed it open, Miss Parker   
following.  
  
"This is a waste of energy, I've been through Jarod's room a thousand times,"   
Sydney said.   
  
"I haven't," she drawled.  
  
Sydney moved confidently through the space, while Parker walked slowly, studying   
the models, books and paperwork on Jarod's shelves. His room hadn't changed   
much since she had searched it three years ago. She was tempted to touch his   
things, run her fingers over the models he had created, and imagined him   
standing where she stood now...  
  
"What are you hoping to find?" Sydney asked, turning back to look at her over   
his shoulder, before heading for Jarod's desk.  
  
"He left a breadcrumb on the tanker, and I'll bet he left one here. Run the   
sim!" Miss Parker demanded.  
  
Sydney hit a button on Jarod's desk, and the projector began to play.   
Images of a plane crashing and bursting into flames played across the wall.   
Sydney watched passively, "This is Jarod's last project. When the black box on   
this aircraft wasn't recovered, Jarod simulated the final moments of the crash.   
And in using his innate Pretender skills, Jarod effectively became each member   
of the cockpit crew and pinpointed the cause of the crash for our clients."  
  
Horrified by the images, Parker hit the off button. The images stopped,   
and the overhead lights came back on. She leaned into Sydney, crowding his   
personal space.  
  
"Hell of an environment you keep him in, Syd. I mean, with input like this,   
maybe we'll find him masquerading as a postal worker..." she bit out   
sarcastically.  
  
"He doesn't masquerade!" Sydney protested, "He's a Pretender, he becomes   
anything he wants to be."  
  
"Well, the Centre should have stuck to computers for their simulations. They   
don't run away," Parker said, walking back around Jarod's desk. She shoved her   
hands under her chin, surveying its contents.  
  
"But they're not human. They can't feel what the crew was feeling as the plane   
lost power, how their emotions contributed to their own fate," Sydney explained,   
but Miss Parker had tuned out.  
  
"Very, very clever," she said, smiling despite herself. She lifted a carefully   
folded paper figure from the desk, "Do you know what this is?"  
  
"An origami angel, but I haven't figured out what the emotional connection to   
him is yet," Sydney replied. Miss Parker lifted its wings gently, then held it   
up in one hand.  
  
"It's not and angel, its wings are bent. It's Onyssius. The Greek god of   
retribution. He defends the weak and abused..." Parker said. She had a mental   
flash of being covered in both hers and Joe's blood, laying her body across   
Jarod's in a last ditch effort to keep him from harm. It seemed Jarod was no   
longer the one who needed defending.  
  
"I'm impressed. How come you know so much about Greek lore?" Sydney was asking.   
She felt a tinge of pain; Jarod wasn't the only one who could learn quickly.   
Miss Parker had studied the mythology of various cultures when she was younger.  
  
"I did a lot of frat boys in college," she said flippantly. She ran her fingers   
over the delicate lines of the origami figure, then thrust it towards Sydney   
angrily, "Here's your breadcrumb, Sydney. Your sociopath thinks he's some kind   
of vigilante getting even for the little guy."  
  
Parker violently threw the figure down onto the table and stalked away.   
Jarod might seek vengeance for others, but she would extract hers on him. He'd   
issued a challenge and she'd meet it, play his game and win. She'd start by   
bringing him home. Out in Corridor 15, she touched her hand to her abdomen, to   
the ridged scar nestled between her ribs. Perhaps, after four long years, it   
was time to get the scar removed.   
  
****  
  
For the first time since he had escaped, Jarod finally found the time to   
do what he had wanted to do for three years. Breaking the Centre's system, he   
checked the personnel files, around September of 1993. He frowned; the only   
records were of Mr Johnson, deceased. The next Security head had been based in   
Corporate, the New York offices, and hadn't operated out of the Centre since.  
  
Jarod clicked on the file, and was surprised at whose face came up. Miss   
Parker, thirty-six years old, had been a field agent with Corporate until being   
promoted to head of Security. She had never been back to the Centre, and her   
file said she had spent the month of September '93 in a Centre facility in San   
Diego, recovering from injuries sustained in the field.   
  
Reading through her file, Jarod realised Miss Parker had been a Centre   
operative since she was just out of college. She'd trained in martial arts and   
various forms of weaponry, starting out as a sweeper and working her way up to   
Corporate's top Cleaner in just ten years. Jarod tried to fit this career   
history with the child he had known, and couldn't do it. He studied her   
photograph; she looked so much like her mother it was frightening, but he could   
see the differences. A certain hardness in her eyes, the grim, unsmiling set of   
her jaw. It would seem Miss Parker had become a very dangerous woman.  
  
That still didn't explain the woman who had been in the Centre at the time   
of the kidnappings. Jarod was sure that Eddie had not created a fictitious   
woman to debrief him, and Jarod himself had smelt her perfume after his room was   
searched. And, of course, there was the mysterious figure that had saved him   
from Andy. He still dreamed about her, and more of his memory of the events   
that day had returned. Her soft voice whispering that everything was going to   
be okay, her cool hands helping him to sit up and stroking his back before he   
was knocked unconscious again.  
  
Perhaps she had been a sweeper after all, and had lied to Eddie when she   
had said she was head of Security. Perhaps she had been a ploy by the   
kidnappers, to put them all off guard.  
  
Taking one last, lingering look at the photograph of Miss Parker on his   
screen, Jarod shutdown the laptop. He was due at the hospital in a view hours;   
the Kevin Baily case was slowly unravelling itself to his satisfaction. He   
stood up from his desk, taking a Pez dispenser with him, and looked at the   
newspaper clipping he had stuck up to one wall, saddened by the death tolls he   
saw there.   
  
Before he did anything, he wanted to talk to Sydney.   
  
The End.  
  
Additional Author's Notes: This story is the result of being home sick and   
watching my tapes of Pretender for ten hours a day. I couldn't help but notice   
that during season one, the character of Miss Parker is both drawn to Jarod and   
bitter about him, which was never fully explained. Genesis is my twisted   
reasoning behind the situation.  
  
The scene with Miss Parker and Sydney in Jarod's room is taken directly   
from the pilot episode, and I cannot take credit for the dialogue, I've merely   
put my own interpretation on it. A transcript of the pilot episode can be found   
at Pretender Enthusiasts and Zealots (P.E.Z.)   
http://members.nbci.com/MargAtHome/ and a quick synopsis and some photographs   
can be found here - http://www.loisdailyplanet.com/01-01-pilot.htm at Lois'   
Daily Planet.  
Thank you,  
Mandy.   
  
Feedback to kitty_amazon@yahoo.com 


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